hersome, she went ahead,
arranging, rearranging, dusting, writing price tickets, lettering
placards, doing all sorts of things, and waiting on customers in the
intervals. At noon, when she and her Uncle Zoeth left for home and
dinner, she announced herself in a measure satisfied. "Of course there
is a great deal to do yet," she said, "but the stock looks a little more
as if it were meant to sell and less as if it were heaped up ready to be
carted off and buried."

That afternoon the store of Hamilton and Company was visited by a goodly
number of South Harniss residents. That evening there were more. The
news that Mary-'Gusta Lathrop was at home and was "tendin' store" for
her uncles spread and was much discussed. The majority of those who came
did so not because they contemplated purchasing extensively, but because
they wished to see what effect the fashionable finishing school had had
upon the girl. The general opinion seemed to be that it "hadn't changed
her a mite." This result, however, was considered a desirable one by the
majority, but was by some criticized. Among the critics was Mrs. Rebecca
Mullet, whose daughter Irene also was away at school undergoing the
finishing process.

"Well!" declared Mrs. Mullet, with decision, as she and her husband
emerged from the store together. "Well! If THAT'S a sample of what
the school she goes to does for them that spend their money on it, I'm
mighty glad we didn't send our Rena there, ain't you, Christopher?"

Mr. Chris Mullet, who had received that very week a bill for his
daughter's "extras," uttered a fervent assent.

"You bet you!" he said. "It costs enough where Rena is, without sendin'
her to no more expensive place."

This was not exactly the reply his wife had expected.

"Umph!" she grunted, impatiently. "I do wish you could get along for
two minutes without puttin' on poor mouth. I suppose likely you tell
everybody that you can't afford a new overcoat account of Rena's goin'
away to school. You'd ought to be prouder of your daughter than you are
of an overcoat, I should think."

Mr. Mullet muttered something to the effect that he was dum sure he was
not proud of his present overcoat. His wife ignored the complaint.

"And you'll be proud of Irene when she comes home," she declared. "She
won't be like that Mary-'Gusta, standin' up behind the counter and
sellin' goods."

"Why, now, Becky, what's the matter with her doin' that? She always used
to sell goods,